


Lullaby

by voodoochild



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen, Genocide, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl and a boy at the end of the world. Cass and Jamie Adar remember their parents - all three of them - as they wait for the Cylons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **loveforthefolks** Mother's Day challenge, for the prompt "Laura Roslin". To **carla_scribbles**, for letting me talk her into writing Socrata Thrace for said challenge, wresting my "ooh shiny" impulses into a coherent story, and indulging my every insane pairing whim with very little freaking out. Lyrics from Vienna Teng's "Lullaby for a Stormy Night".

**Caprica - The Present Day**

"Cass? What's happening?"

What's happening? The world is ending - that's what's happening. There are mushroom clouds off in the distance in every direction, and the fires are spreading through the streets. And none of that is really going to register with my baby brother.

"The Cylons attacked. They broke the ceasefire."

Nuclear warfare, Dad would call it. Call it by its name, Cassie, because that's what Dad would have wanted. He's dead, he has to be - the Case Orange went out, asking any government official to answer - and Mom and Matt are probably dead, too. Delphi High is right in the middle of Caprica City, and it would have been hit first, along with the Quorum Hall and the Senate buildings.

So it's just me and Jamie left. A college student - freshman sociology major at Athenaeum - and her 10 year old brother, holed up in our house in the hills above Caprica City. Who'd have thought the day would come when I appreciated living in the Hills?

" . . . oh. Is Daddy dead?"

"I think so."

"What about Mommy? And Matt?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

He crawls into my lap, huddling with me in the dark. We're under the table in the basement, just like Dad and the bodyguards taught us. If the Cylons land and get past security, they're going to have to break through a triple-sheet metal door and look really hard to find us.

"Cassie? Will they hear us if you sing to me?"

I don't know. They'll probably find us no matter how quiet we are, but Jamie doesn't need to know that. "No, sweetie. They won't hear us."

"Sing me the song Mommy sings me during thunderstorms."

I have no memories of my mother singing to us. I don't think she ever has. And please read my severe irritation at that, because my mother and I have never had the best of relationships. She was beautiful, certainly, and the model First Lady, even before Dad became President. She never left my brothers and I with nannies or caregivers if she could help it, and she was always very involved with our schools. Even made president of the PTA one year, before she gave it up for her gardening club.

Everyone loved her, even my friends. They'd always ask me: Cass, what's your problem with your mom? She's gorgeous and smart and doesn't embarrass you.

They would even ask me in front of her, or while the press were around, and what the frak am I supposed to say? So I lie, say it's just stupid little stuff and that it doesn't mean I don't love her. Oh, Gods, I said it in public once and Mom's publicist was doing handstands of joy - Cass Adar, finally having something printable to say about Mrs. Diane Valen Adar.

And if you think my father had anything to say about Mom's childrearing skills, well - you don't know Richard Adar.

I love my father. I can unequivocally say that I do love my father. He's brilliant, talented, and caring . . . and so, so blind when it comes to women of any age. If I manipulated him the right way, I could get him to name our cat to the Vice Presidency. He has never, in my 17 years of existence, told my mother the word "no", and I don't think he would have the slightest clue to go about it.

It's just me and Jamie left now, and I still don't-

Oh, Gods. I know what he means. I know the song. No, Mom's never sung to us.

But someone else has.

~*~*~*~

**3 years ago**

Debate practice ran for-frakking-ever, so it's later than usual when I get home, and I run up the walk to our house. I know the security team would rather walk me to the door, but Nick put my lit teacher in a headlock again for implying my parents didn't impart any good taste to me, so he's the latest name on my shit list. It's been a long week, and I'm so glad it's over. Mom and Dad are out for the night - embassy ball for the visiting delegation from Gemenon - and Matt will be at his netball game until 11.

Rain pounding against the windows, I leave my soaked clothes in the washroom and grab one of Matt's tee-shirts and an old pair of my jeans lying on the mend pile, and walk into the kitchen. And jackpot - Mina, our latest housekeeper, left me dinner, which doesn't always happen. Sometimes Jamie and whoever's watching him will eat it all, or forget to save me any, and I have to root through a kitchen that is never organized the same way one day that it was the day before. Hazard of Mom's ridiculously high staff turnover. She's forever having to replace the help because she's scared them off or Matt's harassed them out the door.

And gods, I think I love Mina. Dinner's still hot, and I grab the plate of pasta out of the oven and settle on my favorite stool with a glass of juice and a piece of bread from the basket on top of the counter. I've gotten in just in time, because the wind is absolutely howling, clattering the porch swing against the railing. The room lights up, and barely any time after it, the thunder crashes overhead. Zeus is having a hell of a tantrum tonight.

Come to think of it - someone else should be having a tantrum as well. It's past Jamie's bedtime, but the kid's scared to death of thunderstorms. He just refuses to sleep during them, sitting up in Dad's study watching me do homework, or clinging to Mom as she reads or listens to the wireless. Normally, he'd be wailing his head off right now, stuck in a house with just a babysitter during a storm.

I put the plate back on the warmer, and head upstairs for Jamie's room. The door's open, and I haven't heard any screaming. In fact, I'm hearing something completely different, and I lean against the doorframe and listen.

_"Little child, be not afraid, the wind makes creatures of our trees . . ."_

I know that voice.

It's Laura, which surprises me. She hasn't babysat us since the campaign, since Dad made her Secretary of Education and put her in his cabinet. Wow, Mom and Dad must have been desperate for a babysitter if they could agree on her for a change.

And now it's obvious why Jamie isn't crying - he adores Laura. If there were anyone in the entire world he'd choose to watch him, it would be her. She endeared herself to him (and Matt and I, for that matter) when she watched us a long time ago during Dad's first campaign. We were stuck in a hotel room, Matt was in trouble with Mom and Dad for kicking one of the security guys, and Jamie'd been having tantrums ever since we left Caprica City. Laura ignored Jamie's screaming and started teaching me and Matt how to make crayon soap and let us color on the walls. By the time the soap was finished, Jamie had picked up a green piece and forgotten all about how mad he was.

It wasn't like Laura was all fun and games - she would pull Matt by the ear whenever he cursed around her, or give me lectures about my schoolwork if my grades were slipping - but she noticed us. Even when Dad became President and she had tons of her own work to do, she would still ask him about us. She would call on our birthdays or slip a card in Dad's briefcase that had something fun in it. Not usually money - because we hardly needed it - but something she knew we'd like. A sheet of temporary tattoos for me. A set of Pyramid cards for Matt. A joke book for Jamie.

I almost gave Mom a heart attack when I showed up for my 15th birthday dinner at the Palladium with a rose-wrapped-sword on my arm. The press went ballistic. Totally worth getting grounded for two weeks.

Unsurprising, really, that when I was in middle school and my early teens, I used to pretend Laura was our real mom. She paid attention to kids that weren't hers when my mother thought her obligation to us ended with bake sales and fundraisers. Laura even went with me when I got my nose pierced last year, because I was sixteen and I needed adult supervision. She immediately informed my parents, of course, but she went with me to make sure the place was safe, and held my hand when they stuck the needle through.

She even stayed when Mom and Dad lit into me at home. She told Mom she was overreacting and that it shouldn't matter what the press thinks of me. And she called Dad an ass for yelling at me. Said she was proud of how I handled the entire thing.

I think I liked that part best of all.

I watch her with Jamie, and smile as I hear Jamie snoring softly in her lap. Another reason Jamie adores Laura is that she pays equal attention to all of us. He doesn't understand why Mommy pays attention to him, but not me or Matt. He's still young enough to be adorable, and actually likes the press attention, so he's not the publicity problems that Matt and I are. He's a good kid; plays Junior Pyramid and the violin in his school orchestra, and has no trouble in school. He tells hysterical little jokes and can snort milk up his nose at will.

She strokes his hair off his face, and gods, do I wish again that she was my mother, even though I know about her and Dad. I'm not blind, dumb, or stupid. I know my father is having an affair with Laura Roslin, and the only one who bothers to pretend they're not is my mother. But it doesn't matter, because Laura still gives me a hug every time she sees me.

I don't know if anyone realizes how much that means to me. Mom never really touched us. She held us when Matt and I were younger, and still cuddles Jamie now, but I don't think I've really hugged my mother since I turned fifteen.

Laura finishes the song, easing Jamie off her and under the covers, and turns off the bedside lamp. She was reading him "Hook and Pan", of course - Jamie refuses to hear anything else before bed - and replaces it in his bookshelves. Gives me a smile as she spots me in the doorway, and holds her finger to her lips as she follows me out and shuts the door.

I can smell her jasmine perfume as she hugs me. It's not her usual brand, so I assume it's a present from her students. She still teaches night classes once a week because, as she told Dad, she'd go insane if she didn't keep teaching.

"How're you doing, kiddo?" she asks, brushing fingertips across my newly-cut hair. "I like the haircut."

I have to stop myself from bursting into tears. Dad had an aneurysm over it, of course; his only daughter chopping her hair off and dying the tips purple. Which was, truth be told, my guiding motivation in doing it - to see how many colors his face would turn this time. Mom had waved her hand at me, told me it was a phase I'd outgrow, and to please keep a hat on if we were going to be in front of the press.

And my father's mistress is the one smiling at me and supporting me and being more of a mother to me than my own.

It frakking figures, doesn't it?

I shake my head, not even knowing where to begin. "Nick hit Mr. Kilbride again for talking about Dad and the press got a photo of it, Matt brought home his new girlfriend because Dad's offplanet, Mom hates her and is taking it out on me, and Jamie's started a practical joke war on the security team. And I suck at being captain of the debate team and we're gonna lose the mock trial portion of tomorrow's match because of me."

"Oh, boy," Laura sighs. She inclines her head toward the stairs and pats me on the shoulder. "I can't help you with anything else, but let's hit your dad's tea stash and I'll help you talk over your case for tomorrow."

Laura's cure-all: hibiscus tea with sugar. Sounds like a plan.

~*~*~*~

**The Present Day**

"Jamie, you know Laura's not our mommy," I say gently. "Mommy doesn't sing to us."

He shakes his head resolutely. "Don't care. Sing to me anyway. And don't skip the verses like Laura does."

What can I do? Can't blame the kid for wanting someone like Laura for his mother. She's been around his entire life - he can't remember a time when we weren't in the public eye and Dad's mistress liked his kids better than his wife.

What can I do? The Cylons are going to kill us, whether we run or hide or do nothing. I know my history - I've seen the films on TV, how nothing short of a kill shot from a gun can stop them. We don't keep guns in the house, and even if we did, I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to use one. And we can't risk venturing out to find one of the bodyguards - even if one is still alive.

What else can I do, but comfort my little brother?

_"Little child, be not afraid, the rain pounds harsh against the glass . . ."_

~*~*~*~

**3 Years Ago**

"As you have heard here today, ladies and gentlemen of the-"

"Stop."

My palms fall flat on the table, and I look down at Laura, interrupted yet again. "What is it this time?"

She takes a sip of tea and slides her glasses from where they were perched on the top of her hair back onto her face, regarding me from over the rims in a familiar challenging stare.

"Don't assume, Cassie. You're assuming that the jury has been paying attention. They should have been, but we all get bored during jury duty. They could have been doodling or daydreaming or any one of a thousand things besides paying attention to the trial. Remember the three rules of writing and public speaking?"

I do, having had them drilled into me by both her and my father. "Tell them what you're going to tell them. Tell them. Tell them what you just told them."

"Very good," she says, "Now try that closing statement one more time."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have all the facts. Quinn Mallory is a convicted thief. That is a fact. Quinn Mallory was seen by four witnesses entering the scene of the crime-"

Laura holds up a finger. "What crime? You need to be specific in your statement. Make them connect Mallory as a prior thief to Mallory as the perpetrator of this theft."

" . . . entering the scene of the burglary on Marsday, the fifteenth of Julius. That is also a fact. The stolen items were found in Quinn Mallory's apartment by Caprica police three days after the burglary. Another fact. The facts are there, the evidence is there, and the conclusion should be there as well. Quinn Mallory is guilty of the charges brought against him today. Help us bring him to justice."

Applause echoes from the back door, and Laura and I turn to find Dad standing there, tuxedo collar unfastened and his jacket draped over his arm. Mom's handing her coat off to one of the staff, gold evening gown sweeping the floor and tasteful jewelry around her neck and wrists.

"Closing arguments, Cassie?" He throws his jacket over one of the chairs at the table, and drops a kiss on my head before sitting down. "I thought you were going to let someone else do the mock trial while you focused on the Socratic dialogue."

Laura coughs politely, raising her eyebrow at my father. "Not everyone delegates, Richard. I think Cassie's doing excellently with the mock trial portion."

"She's never going to get into Athenaeum if she doesn't pass her Dialogue portion, and-"

Oh Gods, here they go again. Dad and Laura fight almost as much as Dad and Mom, and that shouldn't be possible. Honestly, would it kill my father to not argue with a woman? Any woman?

"And she's sitting right here, thank you both. Dad, if I pass off the mock trial, it'll be the third week, and we're playing Xavier. The captains have to do the mock trial when it's two teams from the same region. I'll have the Dialogue next week against Atlantis."

Mom's finished re-instructing the staff on the proper hanging of her coat, and interrupts in her usual breezy disapproving manner. "Cassie, you're not staying at Olivia's again tomorrow night after the match. I know you girls don't get to see each other often, but we have dinner at the Islingtons and you're expected to be there. Dressed appropriately, please, so I don't have to remind you. Good evening, Laura, thank you for watching Jamie on such short notice. It was Richard's week to make sure we had someone."

Lovely, we're passing right from "let's decide Cassie's future" to Mom and Dad assigning blame for having to have Laura in our house. Gods, it's not like Mom hasn't had her own little indiscretions, and at least Laura doesn't try to wring money out of Dad. He had to sneak a bonus for resolving the union talks into her direct-deposit last year so she wouldn't turn it down.

"It's no trouble, Diane. You look as though you had a wonderful night," Laura says, completely without sarcasm. She's never risen to my mother's bait - you have to try a lot harder if you're going to ruffle her feathers. I'm like her in that way, because Gods know I didn't get it from my father, who's glaring a hole through Mom and sneaking furtive looks at Laura like he doesn't know anyone's watching him.

Mom makes that uncertain smile she gets when she has no idea where you're going with a statement. "We did, actually. Hyperion is beautiful this time of year - and the Gemenese know their music. Even the flight home was fairly uneventful."

Everyone can hear the stress on the word 'home', and Laura takes the offered out. She stands up, stretching tiredly, and everyone ignores Dad's eyes focused in on the skin she shows as her shirt rides up. She picks up her purse and coat from where the staff have dropped it off on the end table, and kisses Mom's cheek and hugs Dad.

"Lovely seeing you both. Richard, I'll see you at the cabinet meeting tomorrow." She hugs me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "Good luck on the match, Cass. Call me and let me know how it went, okay?"

"Okay. Ten-fifteen's not too late, right?"

Laura smiles. "I'll only be midway through budget proposals. Talk to you then."

And she's gone, brushing past security and snagging her car keys from them rather than let one of them chauffeur her home.

~*~*~*~

**The Present Day**

The Cylons are coming. I can hear that terrible clomp as the Centurions walk the driveway up to the house, shooting anything that moves. I can hear the distant screaming and gunfire. I can hear everything.

_" . . . the same rain that draws you near me falls on rivers and land . . ."_

We're not going to live. Even if, by some gods-given miracle, the Cylons don't find us, we'll die of radiation poisoning from the nukes. There's nowhere to go, no anti-radiation meds in the house, and if we managed to get all the way into Caprica City, there's no guarantee it's not just a hole in the ground by now.

Why am I not scared? Jamie's still shaking, even through the song, but my voice is steady. I didn't think knowing I was going to die would be like this. I thought, if the day came, I'd scream and cry and cling to someone, but it's not like that. I know what's coming, and I'm ready for it.

Death is an awfully big adventure, after all.

_"But it's dark and it's late, so I'll hold you and wait . . ."_

Something explodes, much closer than before, and my voice cracks. Whatever it was, it was close enough to shake the house, and dust from the table rises up in a cloud around us. Jamie burrows his head into my shoulder, and shudders as a loud banging and screeching starts.

They're coming through the door.

I turn Jamie so he's between me and the wall, giving my back to the door. They're not getting him first. Last ditch effort, all I can do now.

And finish the song.

_"Everything's fine in the morning. Rain will be gone in the morning . . ."_

I'm crying now, finally. Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer. Artemis, protectress of children, don't let Jamie suffer. Hera, queen of the Gods, lend me strength as I die. Hades, Lord of Night, grant my brother and I safe passage through the underworld and into Elysium.

Two crashes - the Cylons have gotten through the second and third layers of the steel door - and a bang as it falls in.

Red everywhere, buzzing so loud it's drowning out everything else.

_" . . . but I'll still be here in the morning . . ."_

Click.

And then nothing.


End file.
